


wealth of knowledge

by dcb_z



Category: Hyper Light Drifter
Genre: F/M, Implied/Referenced Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-19
Updated: 2020-11-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:13:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27625898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dcb_z/pseuds/dcb_z
Summary: He thought the monoliths would lead him to a cure. Instead, they led him to something-- someone-- else.
Relationships: The Drifter/The Librarian (Hyper Light Drifter)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	wealth of knowledge

A towering monolith stood before him, its face blank and almost smooth in its perfection. Unlike the rest of the world, worn and ragged in its decay, this stood out as something new and untouched by time. The stone is cool beneath his gloved hands as he trails his fingers over the unmarked surface.

Drifter’s companion sprite chirps at him. Oh? Does this monolith have some sort of hidden technology lying within it? That would hardly be a surprise. Drifter gives the sprite a little nod and steps back, hand resting on the hilt of his sword, and watches as something comes to life on the giant stone.

Someone stands beside it. No, not quite, Drifter realizes: it’s a hologram of someone. Their fingers dance across their sprite’s projected display and their eyes, not covered by the goggles atop their forehead, dance between the text taking shape on the stone and their own typing. He relaxes the grip on his weapon as he, too, watches the monolith, eyes trained on reading the glyphs there.

He doesn’t notice the hologram vanish.

* * *

The second monolith is identical to the first. Drifter’s sprite beeps, then hardly waits for permission before activating it. This time, he pays attention to the hologram. It’s hard to tell behind the display and ochre cloaks, but their build seems effeminate, and their pale eyes certainly tell the same story. Not that that’s much to go off of, of course, and Drifter is the type to stay as far away from assumptions as he can-- well, except for the assumption that he’s going to die soon, that no one can be trusted, that every hit could very well kill him--

The hologram pays no mind to him as it types, glances, then disappears from view as soon as the monolith’s glyphs materialize.

Drifter makes a note of the glyphs, then slowly circles the stone, searching for any visible signs of technology on it. There’s nothing there, save for the orange icon at the bottom of it, and if that means anything, he’s yet to figure it out. Should he figure it out? Could these stones and the information held within them help him find a cure? And what of this person that made them-- what might they know?

Are they even still alive?

Drifter sighs. He supposes that he’ll just have to keep searching for these things and pray that he gets something meaningful out of the effort.

* * *

He hovers close to the hologram this time, inspecting it. The person’s skin is grey and their eyes are… not quite white, but pale. Their cloak is similar to his in its fashion. A fellow drifter? Maybe. Their face, what little of it he can see beneath a blue mask, is… pretty. Elegant, he supposes. And their fingers are slender, gentle, light in their touches.

Drifter wonders what their name is.

* * *

He knows it’s a hologram. He knows it’s fleeting in its presence and noncorporeal, but that knowledge hardly stops him. Hesitantly, he reaches out a hand, hovering over the person’s shoulder, before finally trying to touch them. As expected, he finds nothing solid, and his hand goes right through it.

But something about the hologram shifts this time. It’s as if it swayed away from him a little, and for a moment Drifter thinks he feels their eyes on him, and it’s enough to make him quickly pull his hand away and tuck it beneath his cloak. What is he  _ doing?  _ Of course this projection can’t feel him. It can’t see him. Whatever he thought he saw was just a bizarre coincidence from when this person was recorded, that’s all.

Even with knowing these things, Drifter feels a newfound drive in his search for the monoliths.

* * *

Librarian. That’s what he calls them in his head. It’s fitting, he thinks, seeing as how this person seems to be a wealth of knowledge and all. They even left all these things behind for him to read. 

He’s been searching this region tirelessly for the better part of today and he hasn’t been able to find another monolith yet. Is that it? Were there only four of them? No, there has to be more of them. Surely there’s more. He  _ hopes _ there’s more.

And so he goes north and scours the winding ridge for the stone slabs. When he finally finds another one, he can scarcely contain the smile beneath his mask as he eagerly waits for his sprite to finish activating it. 

There-- there’s the hologram. He feels eyes on him again. Can they see him? Is it wishful thinking? Drifter steps closer to the figure. He hadn’t realized it before, but he’s a lot taller than they are. Their frame is… slight, he thinks, and he supposes it’s kind of cute.

He’s not certain, but it feels like the phantom lingers for just a beat longer than usual.

* * *

They’re definitely looking at him this time. He sees their head turn to focus on him and sees their fingers hesitate over their display. They  _ see _ him, he thinks. Drifter didn’t think that was even possible, but they’re looking  _ directly  _ at him and hesitating.

But the glyphs still appear as they always do on the monolith, and he doesn’t think that the hologram lingers this time. They just look at him, stop typing, and then flicker out of view as they always do.

He wishes they’d stay.

* * *

The Librarian looks at him again this time. Drifter sees something with their face change-- are they smiling? Are they happy to see him? Have they been… waiting for the next time they get to see him, just as he’s been looking forward to the next monolith he gets to activate? It fills Drifter with a foreign sense of hope that perhaps this person is still alive and out there somewhere, watching him. It doesn’t make sense, of course-- a part of him is still sure that these are all recordings, all just strange coincidences, all just a weird trick. But this feeling within him, this hope, this longing… it’s alien to him, but he wants to keep it, cling to it, follow it wherever it leads him.

Drifter steps closer to the hologram and reaches out to it. Just before his fingers touch its shoulder, it vanishes, leaving his hand hovering in the air.

It was probably a pointless effort anyways.

* * *

As much as he wants to, he can’t touch them. He knows this. But he tries again with the eighth monolith regardless. To his surprise, the Librarian looks at him as he reaches out and, unlike the times before, they don’t pull away from him. He touches their shoulder and feels a strange static encompass his fingers.

The Librarian’s pale eyes glance between his fingers and his face. He’d kept telling himself their glances were all coincidences, but now there’s no denying that they  _ do  _ see him. Can they--

“Can you… feel that?” Drifter asks. He feels a bit silly trying to talk to a hologram, but then again, it’s a bit silly for him to be trying to touch one.

They don’t answer him. Instead, they bring their hands up and sign an instruction to him: “ _ Find me.” _

* * *

Can they help him? Do they know a cure? Do they have some sort of treatment for his ailment? He hopes so. Heavens, he hopes so. He’s spent so much time already scouring around for these monoliths, letting the Librarian occupy such a large part of his mind. But is that so bad? He’s finally had a goal in life besides just scrambling vainly to try to save himself. He finally has something that feels  _ attainable. _

_ Find me. _

Drifter hasn’t found the Librarian themself yet, but he’s found another monolith. As soon as the hologram flickers into view, he signs to them:  _ “Where are you?” _

They seem to see that, which tells Drifter that they can’t hear him, but they can definitely see him.  _ “The gallery.” _

The what? Drifter hastily rakes his brain for any memory that’ll tell him where that is. Wait-- no, he knows the place. He was trying to get there before-- before he was brought to Central Town.  _ “I’m coming.” _

_ “Find the rest of me.” _

Drifter blinks.  _ “The rest of--” _

The Librarian doesn’t get to answer before they disappear from view. Drifter wastes no time in searching for the next monolith.

* * *

_ “What do you mean the rest of you?” _

_ “The monoliths.”  _

Drifter looks up at the monolith.  _ “Why do you call them you?” _

The Librarian seems to give him a sad smile.  _ “Find me and I’ll explain.” _

* * *

_ “Why can’t you tell me now?” _

_ “There’s not enough time.” _

* * *

_ “Who are you?” _

_ “A Librarian.” _

At least he got that name right.

* * *

_ “And who are you, blue-skin?” _

Drifter isn’t a fan of the term, even though he knows it’s true. The negative connotations of it never failed to get beneath his skin.  _ “I’m a drifter.” _

_ “No name?” _

_ “Well, you don't seem to have one either,”  _ he bites back.  


* * *

He’s lost count of how many monoliths he’s found so far. Let’s see… four in the east, four in the north, four in the west… that’s twelve. He just found one here in the south, and now here’s another one. That’s fourteen.  _ “How many more of… you?” _ he asks.

_ “Two.” _

_ “And when I find you-- are you--” _

_ “Alive?” _

Drifter nods.

He doesn’t get an answer.

* * *

He hates the sinking feeling in his stomach he’s had ever since he activated the fourteenth monolith. Is the Librarian dead?  _ “You didn’t answer me last time,”  _ he laments.

That familiar, sad look touches their face.  _ “I know.” _

_ “You aren’t alive, are you?” _

Their hands hover in the air, silent. Slowly, their fingers curl into a fist, but not out of anger. Drifter can’t place what it looks like they’re feeling, but he can’t deny the ache he feels in his chest when they turn their face away from him.

* * *

What is this feeling? This pain, this longing? Drifter lays his hand on the cool stone of the monolith and is struck with a feeling of deja vu. He knows this is the last one. Is this the last time he’ll see the Librarian? He doesn’t know what he’ll find once he goes to the gallery in the north. Will he find their body, cold as the very stone he’s touching now? Will he see their bones, bare and white as the snow of the ridge? Will there be the familiar ochre cloak that’s haunted his dreams and his thoughts in its newfound favor, only this time empty, worn, and ragged?

He sighs, laying the crest of his helm against the monolith, and closes his eyes. A part of him doesn’t want to even activate the monolith for fear of what might happen. But… he needs to know. He needs to see what’s up there in the gallery after he sees the Librarian this time. And so his sprite pings, activating the ancient technology embedded in the stone.

They stand before him, hands hidden beneath their cloaks.  _ “I’ve found all of you,”  _ Drifter signs, hands feeling heavy. He almost dreads their response.

_ “Come north now.” _

_ “Will I get to see you again?” _

_ “In a way, Drifter.” _

Drifter closes his eyes tightly, then opens them and steps towards the Librarian. His hands start to move to sign a sentence to them, but they cut him off.

_ “Save it for when you see me,”  _ they say.  _ “I’m out of--” _

“Time,” Drifter says beneath his breath.

* * *

The place isn’t hard to find. Before him lays a vast wall covered in monoliths not unlike the sixteen he’s scoured the land for, only these tell a different tale to him. He hardly cares. No, what he’s more focused on right now is the glass case in front of him, the one holding an ochre coat and its sprite and sword. They’re neatly laid out as if on display.

Drifter steps slowly towards it. He knows who they belong to. He just wishes they were wearing it in the flesh. He runs his fingers over the glass, only to quickly withdraw when the case readily opens for him.

A familiar figure shimmers to life behind the case. “You made it,” they-- she-- says. The corner of her eyes wrinkle with a smile.

“You can speak,” he whispers, voice hoarse.

“Yes. I can. But only here.”

“Where are you?”

“Well, my corpse is in here somewhere,” the Librarian replies wryly.

Drifter looks away quickly. He doesn’t want to be reminded of that. Why not? Death is constantly hanging over his head, lurking in his dreams, bubbling up with every cough. Some day all too soon, he’ll be a corpse just like the Librarian.

“Don’t look too down, Drifter.” She walks towards him, laying a hand on his shoulder. The chill is enough to bring his eyes to hers. If he ignores the shimmering of her hologram, he can almost convince himself that she’s real. Her eyes study his for several long moments, reading his expression. “You were hoping I’d be alive.”

“I... was.”

“The good news is, this hologram keeps me from dying for good. My mind and my conscience are melded with this gallery here. As long as it’s still standing, I’m here, and so is everything I learned in my life.”

“A living library.”

“So to speak.”

Drifter swallows, feeling the pain in his throat from his time battling his illness. “...did you… ever find a cure? For the affliction?” he asks softly.

Sadness draws itself over her expression, and she brings her hands up to cup Drifter’s face. Her touch feels almost solid there, and he can’t keep himself from laying his own hands over hers as if to hold them in return. “No. But maybe you will, and then you can come tell me, and the knowledge will be safe here forever.”

He steps a little closer. He wants to touch her, to hold her, to cling to what little he has here. Drifter doesn’t understand what’s welling up inside of him, these feelings stirring deep within, so he doesn’t bother. He pulls his mask down and steps closer, finding the Librarian’s face surprisingly solid when he touches it.

“Drifter?” He can’t think of what to say to her, so she asks another question in the silence filled only by the pounding of his heart. “You got attached to me, didn’t you? That’s why you were so desperate to find me.” She looks away. “It was because you thought I had a cure here, didn’t you?”

“No,” he protests, tilting her face back to his. Drifter feels vulnerable like this-- he almost never takes his mask off in the presence of others. (Do the deceased count?) “At first I thought the… monoliths might lead me to a cure. But then I got more focused on you, on how--” Heavens, he’s terrible at this sort of thing, this whole ‘attachment’ and ‘describing how beautiful something is’ thing. “...how… beautiful you looked, even with what little I could see of you. I wanted-- I needed to know more: what your name was, what you sounded like, who you were.” He rubs his face. “I was afraid after the last monolith that I wasn’t going to be able to see you again even though you told me to come find you here. So… yes, I guess I did get attached to you.”

The Librarian pulls her mask down with a slender finger and Drifter finds beneath it soft lips that he’d very much like to… “Drifter,” she smiles, stepping so close that he swears their bodies would be touching, “it sounds to me like you’ve fallen in love with me.”

He stares at her, unaware of how his eyes widened at the observation. Love? Is that what this is? Drifter wrestles with the thought for several moments before finally deciding that if there’s anyone to ask about this, it’s the Librarian: “...what do I do?”

She laughs. It’s a sweet sound, one that he hears far too little of. He wants to commit her laughter to memory, to treasure it within himself forever. “What would you  _ like  _ to do about it?”

“I don’t know. I--”

“Come here,” the Librarian says, holding his face again and pulling him down to her level.

Kissing her is a strange, fleeting sensation. She’s there and yet she isn’t, but he can definitely feel  _ something _ \-- there’s a static, an electric feeling against his lips, and some kind of movement. That must be a ‘kiss,’ he thinks, and does his best to mirror it. Drifter swears he can feel a chill where her breath touches his skin.

“Does that help?” she asks once the tingling sensation leaves his lips.

Drifter swallows, touching where her lips once were. “I--” He still doesn’t know what to say to all of this. “I… think so…”

The Librarian smiles up at him. “Take my things with you, Drifter. I want you to have them. I feel like you would treasure them more than most.”

“Wait-- Librarian--”

“Yes?”

“Can I… stay here for a while? With you?”

She smiles again. It’s warm despite the chill of her breath. “Of course.”

**Author's Note:**

> back in like. september. nightmargin brought to my attention in the hld discord that there was no drifter/librarian fic out in ao3. and so. i have remedied this. it only took me like, 2 months to get around it it. sorry


End file.
